All in A Lifetime's Work
by kitsuneronbun
Summary: Aziraphale gets a new assignment, and practically a new 'life' - forced to leave his beloved bookshop and demon. An angel's voice is finally put to good use. AC, Rated M for Strong Language in later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Good Omens (most unfortunately) is not a product of my own creativity.  
Author's Note: Reviews are certainly most welcome :)

**ALL IN A LIFETIME'S WORK**

Aziraphale stared at his reflection and studied the face staring back. It was new, a face and body he has yet to get used to. After inhabiting one for a few centuries, one tends to miss it for the first few years. Its still those first few years. It didn't help either that this body was much younger, groomed and styled so differently from his personal taste. Aziraphale's pale eyes fell upon his new-ish nose and new-ish lips, his light blonde hair cut, colored, styled and gel-ed into what his hairstylist called a "razor-textured angled long-bang shaggy", which was a actually just nifty way of saying side-parting his somewhat wavy hair and making it look messy and not-so-messy at the same time. He absently rubbed his chin and longed to shave off his cultivated 5 o'clock shadow which supposedly made him look both "sensitive and manly".

Vanity.

He had cried vanity when Up Above suddenly gave him his new assignment on Earth. Vanity and as many of the Seven Deadly sins he tried to name in the two seconds he was able to speak -- which wasn't too many under the circumstances.

_"We have decided your new assignment on Earth, Aziraphale. Heaven needs a way to endear itself to the youth. Times are a-changing, and we must proceed with more... aggressive means. Your guise as a book collector is of no longer use." _

The Metatron had said, and Aziraphale then, even in his incredulity, heard the amusement in its voice.

_"Its about time we put that angelic voice of yours to good use."_

Aziraphale took a deep breath and looked away from the mirror. The door to his spacious dressing room swung open and a tall man walked in. He was dressed in all-white, with dark hair. Aziraphale eyed the man's baggy pants and jewelry called as 'bling-bling' after a long and rather embarassing conversation, distastefully. He'll never get used to all this American slang.

"Azira, baby!" he gave the angel a hearty pat on the shoulder "What's taking so long? Those posters aren't gonna sign themselves you know."

"Maybe not tonight Gabe. I really hate - er, dislike the camera-weilding throng."

Gabe smiled, "The paparazzi? Nonsense. We got it covered. You'll be fine." He walked idly to one of Aziraphale's desk drawers and fished out a book. He looked at it for a while and dropped it back - Aziraphale eyed it lovingly, it was a Byzantine codex with an authentic ivory cover. Gabe levelled his eyes on the angel, "You wouldn't want to break those young girls hearts, do you?"

Aziraphale winced, if there was anyone who knew how to play on his guilt-strings it would be Gabriel.

And Crowley.

"Alright, alright. Why didn't they pick you instead Gabe. This really is more your kind of thing." he said as he stood up and smoothed out his tailored white coat. Oh how he missed his old comfortable tweed coats and tartan scarves.

"Nah. Not my thing. Didnt anyone tell you? I almost died of stage fright when I had to do that annunciation gig. Im more of the backstage kind of guy."

The other angel shook his head and checked the sky blue polo-shirt underneath the coat as Gabe ushered him out of the room.

"We're doing His work. Lighten up."

Aziraphale sighed. "Of course."

*******

It was a circus alright. It was a circus every night. Aziraphale signed posters and CDs (he still can't over the fact his face was on every one of them) and posed for pictures with the hundreds of adoring fan-girls that lined up. He often wondered how human celebrities did this on a regular basis. He was an angel, he needed no sleep or drink, and yet he was drained to the core.

Aziraphale stepped into his new flat and locked the door behind him. He didn't bother to turn on the lights as he took off his coat and shuffled out his sneakers (he had to admit though, he liked wearing those) and padded barefoot on his lush white carpet towards the kitchen and flicked on the light. It was all steel and shine, and sleek black marble. Aziraphale grabbed a waiting kettle and filled it with water. They had let him keep his books, but he so missed his old bookshop in London, his old kitchenette and battered arm chair. He missed his grocer and the ability to walk unknown in a crowd without needing to 'miracle' it. He missed the ducks at St. James, he missed those long walks with...

He sighed inwardly, and set the kettle on the electric stove. He missed Crowley. He missed the demon barging in on him and insisting that they go out or see some new film 'documentary' Crowley knew Aziraphale would hate. At least his present flat kind of reminded him of Crowley. It was not so different from the demon's home, and the angel was sure Crowley would have liked New York. Aziraphale waited for the water to boil, lost in his thoughts.

"So, how was the meet-and-greet tonight?"

"Insufferable." Aziraphale answered absent-mindedly then jumped - practically jumped out of his human body and then some. He turned to the voice, "_Crowley?!_"

"Were you expecting anyone else?" Crowley said slyly, leaning on the doorframe leading into the kitchen. He drank in Aziraphale's new countenance, noting with great interest that the angel was wearing jeans and a tight blue shirt. "You look different, angel. Real different. I guess you just needed a celestial stylist after all." he chuckled. "You sound different too. Nice American accent."

"What the hell are you doing here?!" Aziraphale nervously looked around, he must have been so wrapped up in his thoughts he didn't even sense the demonic aura. That could have been fatal for him.

"Wow. Nice to see you too."

Aziraphale shook his head, "No, no. You can't be here. What if Gabriel finds out youre here?!" he whispered for no good reason at all, although it made him feel somewhat safer in the hopes that the archangel won't sense them.

"Oh Gabe? He gave me your address."

"What?!"

Crowley was most amused, "How do you think I found you? He said you looked like you could use some cheering up." His mind automatically went through several scenarios of what 'cheering up the angel' could entail - he liked all of them.

Aziraphale finally sighed and took the kettle off the heat, steeping a couple of teabags in it. "He said that?" Crowley shrugged and watched the angel pour out tea for both of them and set out a jar of sugar cubes. Some things just never change. "I guess its that bad huh?" Aziraphale ran a hand through his hair, trying to get the long bangs out of his eyes. It didn't work of course, so he pounced upon his tea like a madman.

The demon slowly walked over and sat at the counter. He couldn't help but notice how... fetching that hair-combing looked. No wonder the angel had so many fans in the short time he's been out there. Sure, he's seen the CDs and posters and Azira tour adverts on tv, but it was real different seeing the angel's new persona in actuality. For the first time in centuries Crowley equated Aziraphale with the term 'Hot'. "Yeah. I brought something to drink. Thought that would cheer-you-up." he said magically producing a bottle of wine - a Chateau Lafitte, the angel's favorite.

"Oh Crowley, you shouldn't have." Aziraphale blushed but nonetheless set down his teacup to fetch a couple of wine glasses. "Its been a while. Gabe isn't a very good drinking buddy. He hasn't mastered the sobering up part yet."

"I could imagine. How long has he been here?" Crowley said, following Aziraphale into the den and opened the bottle of wine without so much as a thought.

Aziraphale sat down a large plush sofa, and leaned back on an arm rest. "I don't know, maybe 2, 3 years. Just around the time my 'career' started." He handed Crowley a glass and held out his which was immediately filled midway. He took a sip, and distractedley opened a couple of buttons down his shirt. Crowley tried his best not to look too distracted at that small patch of angel chest and took a seat at the other end of the sofa. Aziraphale didn't notice. "So why are you here really? Aside from cheering me up."

"Business. Officially anyway. You know what I mean." he emptied his glass and refilled it quickly. "They want me to keep an eye on you. Your songs are growing popular, less of the kids are making out and holding hands instead." He blanched, "Charity, Virtue and Chastity levels are at an all time high."

"Ahhh, theyre worried are they?" the Principality smiled.

"They didn't think Heaven could pull it off. Much less have the creativity to think this up. You guys are far too old-fashioned for something like this, no offense. What, with songs like 'Good Samaritan' and 'Lovin is For All Time', I didn't think you'd make it either.

Aziraphale sipped, "Thank you for the vote of confidence, my dear." he said, letting his old English accent to return. He certainly missed sounding British, he mused.

Crowley leaned forward to pour more wine into Aziraphale's glass. "Must be your new look angel. Look almost exactly like you did back in the Garden. Minus the denim of course." he looked thoughtful, gulped down his drink once again and refilled. "And the growing-out beard thing."

"Yes. That. I find it distracting, and itchy. I miss our old life."

"Me too." the demon said quietly.

"Itchy?"

Crowley raised his eyes and peered over his sunglasses.

Aziraphale suddenly blushed, "Oh."

They both fell into a tense silence, words wanting to be said but held in check. It had only been a couple of years since they last saw each other. One would think that to a pair of beings who will live til the end of time, 2 years would be but a blink to the eye. Yet to the unlikely couple, it had been too long a time spent apart in the past few centuries.

It was Crowley who broke the silence, "How much longer will this assignment last?"

"I don't know. Another 3, maybe 5 years?" Aziraphale smiled and tried to sound jovial, "Or until they get tired of me. You know how fickle these kids are. One day youre their hero, next you're on those ghastly tabloid magazines."

It was the demons turn to give a half-smile, those tabloids were his invention. "But thats a maybe, angel. 3 year will turn into 5, into 10 then 20. Up to point when they cant explain why you still look so damn young anymore. Theres only so many excuses plastic surgery can make, and I know your people aren't very keen on lying."

"Then it'll end Crowley. We know it will end. Just a matter of time I guess." Aziraphale threw a glance at the demon.

"Too long angel." Crowley placed down his glass on the coffee table and slid down the sofa towards the angel. He wasn't very good at expressing his feelings, but his face did a pretty good job at telling the angel how much he missed him. He brought up a slender finger to Aziraphale's cheek and traced a line down to his chin. Aziraphale trembled, looked away and blushed scarlet.

"You know I can't leave this. No matter how much I want to. I can't." Aziraphale trained his eyes away from Crowley, afraid that his resolve would fail. Oh how he wanted to collapse now into the demon's arms and leave this new existence. To pretend and come home to his bookshop and Crowley would pick him up every night at 8 for dinner. "It is my duty." he said with a faltering voice.

Crowley drew himself up to Aziraphale and pulled the angel into his embrace. "I know." he said, feeling the slim figure relax its frame to his chest. As Aziraphale buried his head into the crook of the demon's shoulder, Crowley sighed, "I'll work it out."


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Once again, Good Omens is not mine.  
Author's Note: This one's short, although I feel that the 'end' befits the end of a Chapter. Please review :)

**ALL IN A LIFETIME'S WORK **  
Chapter 2

Aziraphale looked up irritably from his desk and silenced the alarm clock blaring out 7:30am with a glare. He sighed and laid down his tweezers and brush, took off his white latex gloves and covered the book he had been religiously repairing. After Crowley fell asleep on the sofa, Aziraphale had disentangled himself and tucked him in with a blanket the demon wouldnt have been caught dead using.

The angel had been holed up the rest of the night in his makeshift workroom just as he had in his old bookshop, hidden away in the deep recesses of the absurdly large walk-in closet that came with the flat. He sighed, turned off the desklamp, morosely stepped out of his secret cubby and covered it with his coat rack. He flipped on another light switch and a warm glow illuminated the rest of the closet. Aziraphale plucked up a list taped among others on his mirror at random.

Lucky outfit #056. It outlined in great detail complete with illustrations what Aziraphale was to wear for the day, Gabriel - to Aziraphale's surprise - was much more obsessive compulsive than the Principality. He would not leave anything to chance, not especially Aziraphale's public image which _only_ took the will of Heaven itself to implement. Aziraphale eyed the rest of the indexcards and considered for a second if #063 looked more appealing. Nope. It was just as 'modern' as everything else. Didn't matter really. So he went on to pick out the items in the list, putting them on exactly as the card illustrated. Crisp white shirt #24, Khaki pants #11, red belt with unusually large buckle (Aziraphale thought that it was ridiculous, but nonetheless put it on. Things were hard enough as it is, and nobody wants an irate Archangel breathing down your neck over a stupid belt), red chuck taylors pair#2. The only thing he really liked were the sneakers. Aziraphale made a mental note to keep a couple of pairs for himself as soon as this assignment was over.

Assuming it would be over soon. Where the term 'soon' hopefully only equalled 3 or 5 years more. But Aziraphael was no fool. Up There can and will continue this assignment for as long as they wish. Its so easily remedied, just a new face, a new body, or they can simply make Aziraphale 'age' indefinitely. With things going as well as it was now, this work will easily last a human lifetime.

Maybe longer.

That thought depressed Aziraphale even more, as he sullenly studied his reflection a last time before stepping out into his never-been-used bedroom. The sheets have never been touched, nor sat upon. The angel simply refused to believe that this assignment would take longer than he mentally accepted, and therefore only allowed himself to use this space as a temporary home.

Crowley must have sensed this deep depression last night, Aziraphale thought. The old snake had none of his usual sass and seemed almost... caring. He had to smile at that and walked into the living room only to find the demon missing. The blanket was thrown aside, glasses and wine bottle the only evidence Crowley had been there.

Aziraphale tried not to be too disappointed and headed out, a limousine was waiting for him. He expected as much anyway.

*******

Today, he had a photoshoot and a meeting with his producers.

The meeting went well over brunch; Gabe did most of the talking, Aziraphale did his best to smile through everything. The only thing he remembered was that the tea was exquisite and the devil's food cake divine. At the very least, he liked the perks of this job.

Photoshoots on the other hand, were in Aziraphale's least-liked 'perks' of the job list. It involved tons of people, long hours dealing with a moody photographer, 'emoting' in front of the camera (angels weren't exactly known for their skills in acting) and most of all; finding ways to avoid lying in the endless small talk the stylists, make-up artists, directors, producers, photographers and assistants just had to make.

Aziraphale let himself be ushered into hair and make-up and let the stylists do their thing. At least his manicurist was a welcome sight, Aziraphael was beginning to mentally phase out when Gabe appeared next to him.

"Your new personal assistant is here, baby." he had a grin un-befitting of an angel at the moment.

"What? I don't need a PA, Gabe. We talked about this before."

Gabe's grin grew wider. "Oh no, no. This one, you can't refuse."

Aziraphale's eyes widened when he spotted Crowley's familiar frame appear next to Gabe's.

Crowley's mouth was twisted into a sly smile. "I would have picked a different position, angel. But Gabriel here drives a very hard bargain."


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: This has been my favorite chapter so far. ^_^

**ALL IN A LIFETIME'S WORK  
**Chapter 3

Crowley followed Aziraphale around the ordered chaos that was a typical photoshoot tending to - or at least pretending to - tend to the angel's personal needs. Aziraphale had to pick up his jaw from his lap when he first saw Crowley, and the demon couldn't have been happier to illicit such a reaction. He also knew, from Aziraphale's pursed lips and glaring stare that the angel couldn't wait to ask him what the hell was he thinking. The demon's smile grew wider as he subtly encouraged even more chaos around him.

"Stop that, Crowley." Aziraphale quietly reprimanded the demon next to him while the wardrobe staff fussed around them. "I can feel you working them you know."

Someone handed the angel a hanger and he soon disappeared behind a dressing partition. After a few moments, he peered out confused, "Um, where's my shirt?"

"None, Mr. Azira." a young woman answered, holding the rest of the angel's 'outfit' in her hands. A pair of costume white wings. "You're being shot as an angel today."

Aziraphale's face registered surprise, blushed and disappeared once again behind his screen. Crowley started laughing manically - oh, the irony of it! He has almost reduced himself to a fitful heap on the floor when Aziraphale reappeared in a pair of tight white pants and nothing else. The demon's mouth clamped shut and took in the angel's bare chest. He swallowed, entranced, along with the rest of the women (and some men) in the immediate vicinity. Crowley noted this with distaste, and everyone gaping suddenly remembered a most pressing matter across the other side of the room.

The angel looked uneasy - a default Aziraphale face - and walked over to Crowley. He was about to say something when the photographer and Gabriel appeared.

"Perfect! Perfect! Where are his wings? Wings!" the photographer shouted across the room, and the girl carrying the prop came scurrying back. She strapped them on with Gabriel's help and Aziraphale must have looked ill.

Gabriel squeezed Aziraphale's shoulders, "You alright Azira? Baby! Need anything?"

"I... I could use something to calm my nerves right now."

The archangel's eyes swung towards the demon pretending to be nonexistent at the moment. "Crowley, get him something to drink."

"Hmm? Are you asking me to get you something?"

"Well, duh. Yes. Get him some tea. They always have some ready over at the caterer." When Crowley didn't seem to move, Gabriel glared, "What do you think I'm paying you for Tony?!"

Crowley's glare could have burned a hole right through the oblivious photographer and the wall behind him - and the room behind that - but nonetheless stalked away to fetch a cup of hot tea. It was a good thing that none of the mortals around could see past the sunglasses.

"Thanks." Aziraphale gave a small smile at his one celestial friend on Earth, and absently scratched at the straps running along his shoulders.

"We will digitally erase all of that out." the photographer said as he led Aziraphale onto a set painted a convincing shade of sky blue. There was a large white wingback chair standing off-center. "Come, this way here Azira. Stand here, perfect! Our art director today will explain the theme. Yes?" he hurriedly hopped off the small set's dais.

Out of the woodwork appeared another man, who took a moment to shake Aziraphale's hand. "Neil Garrison. Im with IdeaBox. Nice to finally meet The one and only Azira. I must say, I'm a fan."

The angel shrugged, "Just Azira. So, what are we doing today?" He vaguely remembered IdeaBox as his marketing agency.

"Today we're doing the cover for your new single, plus a couple other sets for the marketing campaign. The usual."

Aziraphale inwardly sighed, 'the usual' meant he'll be here until the wee hours of the morning. They'll be shooting everything today, from the CD cover to magazine spreads to billboard ads. Gabriel liked getting everything done in one fell swoop; he knew Aziraphale had a great aversion to photoshoots therefore making it easier for the both of them by doing everything in one go; and more importantly, he knew it was much cheaper to do it this way. Who'd have guessed that the Archangel was such a savvy businessman.

"Sure. What do you want me to do?"

Neil explained in detail the 'look' he was going for, how they were going to add and subtract things on the computer, the lighting, the mood (which was "a subtle mix of heavenly, sexy and retro-hip"). Aziraphale merely nodded, most of the information exiting right through his other ear. He's learned to ask the one question that yeilded the best answer;

"So, do you want me to smile?"

"No, no. But don't look grumpy either. Just look... uh... thoughtful. Contemplative. Yes! Like that. Perfect."

Aziraphale was confused, he hadn't changed his expression yet. But if that was alright, then just go with it he guessed. He shrugged then parked himself on the chair. The camera immediately started clicking away, and once in a while one of the assistants would come and touch up things here and there. They went through several poses - standing, sitting, leaning on the wall. The angel opted for the same neutral look all throughout.

As soon as the art director called a break, Aziraphale stepped off the set and was greeted by the sight of Crowley still holding a paper cup. He heard Neil behind him frantically talking on his cellphone.

"Here." the demon handed it to him gruffly, but he'd kept the tea warm. Aziraphale sipped at it gratefully.

"Thanks." Aziraphale drank down some more and checked who was within earshot. He saw that Gabe was busy on his cellphone, the irate director at his side. They seemed to be in a heated argument of sorts. Satisfied, he looked back at the demon, "How in the world did you convince Gabriel to let you stay?"

It was Crowley's turn to check if the Archangel was within listening range, "Let's just say that we made our own little arrangement. As long as I don't mess with your operation directly, I can stay."

"And as long as you do whatever Gabe says?"

"Perceptive angel. Yes." Crowley shoved his hands in his pockets, and grinned. "Although on the bright side of things, I have exclusive access to all of your moves. I'm sure my bosses would appreciate that." A forked tongue slipped out for only the briefest of moments, "_I_ certainly appreciate that."

Aziraphale blushed, "That was very... sly of you Crowley."

"Sly indeed." Gabriel appeared between them and placed an arm over both their shoulders. "However demon, you're on my watch now too. And a deals a deal." a searing tone surfaced from the angel's typically jovial mood. It was a tone Crowley knew well, and he knew it was best - or rather, paramount - that he 'behaved' for his own continued existence. "One of our models for today couldn't seem to make it. I volunteered you Anthony J. Crowley."

"Now hold on, Gabriel, I agreed to nothing like this - "

The Archangel silenced him with a seething glare, "Oh. Yes you did. If you think your lot has got the contract signing down, I'm sure you'd be delighted to find that Heaven has caught up in that department as well."

"A model?" Aziraphale asked somewhat dumbly, trying to break the tension. It was the best he could do under the circumstances.

Gabriel's face split into a smile, "Yes. See, Ideabox won out the marketing bid with its Heaven smites Hell theme for your new single. Too bad their model can't make it today, but with the really tight schedule, we'll just have to make do." He gave Crowley a pat on the back which was only vaguely friendly. "And what do you know, I have a real demon available."

"Mr. Anthony Crowley?" a young assistant tapped lightly on the demon's shoulder. Should she have known who exactly she was touching, she may have realized how lucky she was that two angels were around to make sure she wasn't instantly reduced into a smoldering pile of ash. "I'll bring you over to hair and make-up, I understand you will be our demon for today."

Crowley scowled, but nonetheless followed the hapless young lady. He muttered almost inaudibly, just enough for the other two inhuman beings in the room to hear; "I swear Gabriel, if I look stupid, deal's off. You can keep Aziraphale."

"Hey!" Aziraphale pouted.

Gabriel laughed, "Hot air. You should have seen him practically beg to stay." The other angel nodded. "Can't wait to see the demon's face when he spots the bat wings and plastic pitchfork they got in the prop room."


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: This took longer to write than I anticipated. Hate being swamped with work. I rather enjoyed writing this though; been toying with this in my head for quite a while now. So I'm happy to see it finally in text-form.

**ALL IN A LIFETIME'S WORK  
Chapter 4**

The applause was almost deafening, coupled with the endless squeels of the women in the audience, Aziraphale found himself fighting the urge to cover his ears as he waved and walked towards the waiting woman onstage. The fact that the audience was almost entirely female certainly did not help - or rather greatly helped - the noise level in the small studio. Aziraphale smiled despite the barrage of visual information, both enamoured at the fact that he was on television and utterly dismayed at the verbal farce that was to come. What in the world was Gabriel thinking when he allowed this (Aziraphale bit down the expletive forming in his mind) interview?!

"Welcome! Welcome to the show Azira. Glad you could come." the host smiled as she gave him a hug and handshake, then gestured to a plush cream chair next to hers. They both sat down as the audience settled themselves as if that was a cue for them to take their seats themselves.

Aziraphale's smile was plastered on his face and he hoped it looked sincere. He eyed the audience for a second and spotted Crowley slouched a few rows from the front, he gave a thumbs up sign in only a way a demon can; disapprovingly. "Thanks for having me." he said politely.

"So, Azira, first thing's first, I'm sure all the ladies here have the same question in mind; are you single?"

Damn, this lady certainly doesn't beat around the bush. Then again, she wouldn't be the queen of daytime tv if she did. Aziraphale didn't even notice that his mind had just cursed not even 2 minutes into the interview. "One could... say that..." He said carefully. The audience erupted into a collective sigh, including the host herself. She clutched a hand to her chest. Aziraphale wondered if he'd be fully justified to lie just this once or twice, or how many times it took in the next 10 minutes.

"He's single la~dies!" she beamed at him then rebounded with another question that sent the angel's mind and moral state reeling. "But are you seeing anyone? Just dating?"

"Er -" Aziraphale fought hard not to glance the demon's way, and even harder not to glance Gabriel's way. "Yes." he answered quietly. The audience fell silent, and Aziraphale imagined the archangel's brow raising sky high. He was wrong of course; Gabriel was more perceptive in terms of relationships than most angels having watched humans continuously over the past millenia - and thus issued nothing more than a knowing smile backstage.

"Anyone we know?"

"Oh, no, no." Aziraphale answered quickly, "I really prefer keeping things private, Oprah."

The woman's smile did not waver, "Of course, of course. Just arranging for this interview was quite a challenge for my producers. You are quite unlike many celebrities, nobody sees you attend parties, nor the Grammys, and you don't do any public appearances aside from your album launches and charities. Is there any reason for this?"

"I guess, this whole limelight thing isn't my cup of tea. Besides, I'm kept very busy with some of my projects."

Oprah nodded, listening intently. Aziraphale found himself admiring the woman's sincerity at least, "Some, I think is an understatement Azira. You've got charities all over the place, a new song coming out and a tour kicking off in a couple weeks - when do you find time to sleep?"

"Um. I don't," he answered truthfully.

The host missed the real truth of the statement.

Aziraphale continued, "I rest by reading books."

"Books? That's really interesting, I'm sure you've heard of my book club. I love books."

"Yes!" the angel beamed, "I love books too, collecting them in particular. Rare volumes on prophecies. Or, at least..." Aziraphale's smile withered, "I used to collect old books. Now, I havent really the time." He looked at Crowley in the audience longingly only to find the demon was fast asleep.

Oprah seemed to sense the singer's sadness and quickly changed the topic, not wishing the interview to go negative on her viewers. "Tell us, Azira, where do you get inspiration for your songs?"

That shook Aziraphale from his thoughts, and knit his brows for a second; how do you say; 'Well Oprah, no inspiration necesarry actually. Heaven simply sends me all the songs they want me to sing. Via this holy chalk circle in an archangel's highrise condominium unit.' He opted for something vague;

"I get my inspiration from all good things." That sounded lame even to his ears, but he saw women in the audience just lapping it up so he continued, "I'm just on a mission to let people know the really important things in life. If they get that from my songs, then I'm happy to know I've changed someone along the way."

"So is it true that over 80% of your album sales go directly to charity?" Oprah cupped her chin in one hand, "Thats eighty percent Azira. Thats a lot. Even I can't afford to do that."

Aziraphale smiled, "Yes. I'd give everything actually if my er.. accountant allowed it." That line was one hundred percent true. "Plus, I have my manager who figures out all of my finances anyway. Never been worried about money."

"You must be pretty close to trust him like that."

"Oh, we go back a long, _long_ time."

The talkshow host nodded, "Well, Azira's new single; 'Longing', is out today." A poster flashed onto the huge screen behind them, Aziraphale in as angelic a form his human body can radiate, sword raised in hand and a fallen demon (replete with batwings and pitchfork at his side) under his feet. "Don't forget to catch his latest concert tour kick-off at Madison Square Garden next, next week entitled 'Symphony', everybody in the audience gets to bring home Azira's new sin-gle!" Oprah beamed at her audience who in turn cheered, then faced a camera, "After the break, Brad Pitt is heere!"

Aziraphale rose to his feet as she did, and recieved a hearty hug from the host.

"Thanks so much for making time for us, Azira."

"Don't mention it."

A camera panned out and music ushered in a commercial break.

*******

Crowley awoke to the noise of cheering women clutching their purses and waving at Aziraphale. The lady next to him was jumping up and down and he thought she was about to have a coronary. The demon languidly stretched, ignoring the chaos and peered up just in time to see the angel and Oprah hug with the wretched poster projected behind them. He eyed it with mild disapproval, hating the fact that he was at the bottom (he would have very much liked it to be the other way around and in a setting that included a mattress), but nonetheless pleased that the photographer had gotten his cheekbones in a most flattering light.

"Isn't he something?!"

"Huh?"

"Azira!" said the lady - it was the woman who Crowley thought was about to - or was now hoping to - have a heart attack. "Azira! I love you!" she called and turned back to the demon, "Such a sweet young man._ Don't you just love him?_"

Crowley stared at the angel smiling and talking to the host, the lady's words ringing in his ears.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Crowley and Aziraphale (despite being a hot rockstar in my head who I'd totally be a groupie of) are not characters of my own creation. Neither is the book Good Omens.

Author's Note: Let me know what you guys think; positive or negative! Please review, thanks :)

**ALL IN A LIFETIME'S WORK  
Chapter 5**

The flight back from Chigago in Aziraphale's chartered plane was rather boring and uneventful, save for one thing; a letter.

Crowley spent his time emptying the plane's stock of alchohol while bugging Aziraphale who tried his best to read through his fanmail, personally answering each one carefully. Crowley couldn't understand this - 'thats what your staff is for angel' - but Aziraphale adamantly wanted to do it himself; 'Wouldn't you be so put-out to learn that your hero didn't even write you back himself?' The angel's english by now would automatically switch back to English whenever the demon was around. None of the staff noticed.

Gabriel on the other hand spent the flight staring at his laptop computer, typing and talking on his cellphone.

Aziraphale had come upon one interesting letter, knitting his brow in confusion. "Look at this Crowley, I don't believe I've ever recieved something like this." he handed the piece of paper to the inebriated demon who had to take a couple of tries before succesfully snatching the letter out of the other's hand. He read for a while then let out a hearty laugh.

"It's a stalker, angel." Crowley began reading, amused;

"_'Azira, why do you always answer my letters like you've never met me? Why do you pretend to be what you are not? I know who you are. I know we are meant to be together. Always and forever. You are my angel Azira. Mine. - J.S.' _

The lock of blonde hair's a nice touch."

Aziraphale must have looked ill so Crowley added; "Don't worry about these things too much. Every celebrity gets some sort of stalker one time or another." He handed the angel the tiny bottle of scotch, noticed it was empty and willed the poor receptacle to refill itself. "It's not like you can't take care of yourself Aziraphale. How many mortals do you think can take down an angel?"

"Well," Aziraphale said carefully, "I suppose you're right my dear." He took the scotch and knocked it back quickly, "I suppose you're right."

*******

Dinner was waiting for them when they arrived at Aziraphale's flat. Crowley learned quickly that Aziraphale disliked going out for dinner anymore, preferring his personal chef to work out his meals while he was away. Nobody ever asked why the food never spoiled (even if it had probably been waiting at the table for the last 3 days), and was always at the perfect serving temperature when Aziraphale sat down to finally eat. That was of course, because, nobody, not even his personal chef hung about the angel's home long enough to find out. Everything was a carefully orchestrated convenience thanks to Gabriel.

Crowley sat at the table and plucked up a piece of fruit, "Looks great angel." He eyed Aziraphale who shrugged and turned to walk up his stairs.

"You go ahead, I feel like taking a shower."

"Since when have you taken a shower Aziraphale?" Crowley said, watching the angel's retreating form. "You could always will yourself clean you know."

"Of course, my dear." Aziraphale sighed, "Its just... I need a bit of time to think. Showers are good for that." He didn't want to admit just yet how rattled that letter got him. The lock of hair on the letter _was_ his. Where could someone have picked that up? "I'll be right back." With that, he bounded up the stairs.

Crowley shrugged and settled back into his chair. He opened the waiting merlot and poured himself a glass, deciding to wait for the angel before starting dinner. His eyes surveyed the angel's temporary home and found that he rather liked the decor, minus the expensive dust collectors here and there. The place could use a few houseplants though, he mused. Everything looked so unlike Aziraphale's taste and no traces that the angel actually lived in the space. Crowley wondered how the angel lived like this for the last couple of years without going crazy. He knew how stubborn Aziraphale could be once he's set in his ways, his personal sense of fashion was a testament to that. And even in that, Heaven had enforced change. Crowley almost felt guilty that he hasn't come earlier to visit. Fortunately for him, guilt was not a default demonic disposition. Besides, when Aziraphale told him about this new assignment, the angel insisted that he be left alone.

The demon glanced at his watch and saw that it was almost 10 in evening now; about 3 in the morning in London. Patience was also not a default demonic disposition, so he drank down the last of the red wine and got up to check on Aziraphale. He slowly ascended the stairs, and the sounds of the running shower wafted down the hall. That and Aziraphale's distinct voice, singing.

Crowley listened entranced, realizing for the first time that he's never actually heard Aziraphale sing. Angels had always been known for their songs; voices gifted with such clarity and sweet tonality it could bend mortal wills. Crowley followed the voice, intently listening to the melody. Aziraphale's voice was perfectly pitched, wondrously vivid like cascading silk in Crowley's mind. Yes, angels could sing, but he's heard none sing like Aziraphale. He closed his eyes, caught in the sweet sound as he found the bath and grasped the doorknob turning it slowly. The door opened silently, steam escaping through the small crack, Aziraphale's voice sounding louder.

_.... Is it a sin?  
Is it so wrong to love you the way I do?  
I long for you.  
I do.... _

Crowley peered in slowly and quietly, not wanting to disturb the song. He found Aziraphale's silhouette behind the shower curtain, and licked his lips unconsciously. The demon watched the lithe body bend over to soap and rinse its legs, methodically scrubbing upward then finally stretching up to face the stream of water. He must have sighed then, because suddenly the voice stopped singing and the water tap turned off.

"Crowley?!" Aziraphale was peering wide eyed behind the shower curtain, cheeks ablaze. "What are you doing here?"

"Er. I - I heard you singing and well, I -" Crowley collected himself, completely unaquainted with the feeling of being caught red-handed. He usually incited that and not the other way around. "I've never heard you sing before." he said as conversationally as he could muster under the circumstances. His mind was screaming 'naked angel!' to all of his senses.

Aziraphale reached for a towel and wrapped it around his waist before stepping out. "Really?" he eyed the demon quizzically. "Was it alright?"

Alright? Damn angel, its just about the sweetest most wonderful thing I've ever heard in 6000 years of existence. Crowley coughed, "It was okay." He advanced forward and tried to look as casual as he can, sidling up to the surprised angel, "Or rather, it was exquissssite."

"Oh. Thank you Crowley." he took a step back, knowing immediately what was on the demon's mind. Aziraphale knew his infernal counterpart well enough to know the demon hisses for only three reasons; anger, stress and -

Crowley took two more steps and pinned the angel to the wall; a hand came up to cradle Aziraphale's head as he pressed a heated kiss on the angel's lips. "I certainly misssed this angel." Crowley smiled into the angel's mouth, forcing apart Aziraphale's lips with his tongue.

The angel gasped, and felt Crowley's probing tongue as he struggled to stay on his feet. He needn't have worried though, for Crowley was pressed up against him so close, it was a wonder the wall hasn't given way yet. "Crowley - I can't -" he said in between gasps and moans as he felt the demon nuzzling his ear then began trailing wet kisses downwards. "Gabriel -"

"I don't care." came the muffled reply. "The archangel sssaid I could do anything I wanted as long as I didn't interfere with your work," Crowley's tongue traced a line back up to Aziraphale's neck. The angel moaned against his will. "I'm not interfering, right?"

Aziraphale closed his eyes, breathing hard regardless of the fact that he really didn't need the oxygen. "I... s-suppose not."

"Actually, I'm helping to cheer you up assss it were..." Crowley whispered into Aziraphale's ear, sending shivers up and down the holy spine. "Admit it angel, you miss thissss just as much as I do..."

"I... uh..."

Crowley smiled impishly as he felt the angel's resolve weakening. Damn the archangel if he found out - if he doesn't already know - he'll deal with it in the morning. Right now, all that mattered was his angel. His Aziraphale.

"Let's pretend tonight we're in Soho, our London. The way it once was"

He let his hands wander down to the angel's waist, pulling him closer. Crowley found Aziraphale's lips once again, and this time, there was no protest.

That night, Aziraphale found himself using his bed for the first time since he's moved in.

With great earnest.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Crowley and Aziraphale (despite being a hot rockstar in my head who I'd totally be a groupie of) are not characters of my own creation. Neither is the book Good Omens.

Author's Note: Maybe I should change this story's category from Humor to General or something...

**ALL IN A LIFETIME'S WORK  
Chapter 6**

Just over a week has passed since their trip to Oprah's studio in Chicago.

Gabriel noted with great interest the change in Aziraphale's disposition the morning of the first rehearsals. He furtively followed around the Principality, eyebrow arched, watching Aziraphale smile more, talk more and what was this?-- attempt more of the stage choreography - though it wasn't to say he was improving. Most of the dance instructors and choreographers have almost deemed Azira as a lost cause and resorted to well-placed, walks and turns and twists executed in sync with the dancers - enough to make it look like the singer was 'dancing' while taxing none of his limited skills . Gabriel smiled at this, and kept it to himself.

The following days, he noted once again in amusement Aziraphale's newfound tolerance through final costume fitting for the upcoming concert. There were none (or well, maybe just one or two) of the usual protests against the 'flashy-clothes-only-a-demon-would-wear'and practically no whining about the 'hi-techy-be-boppy' stuff Gabriel's visual effects engineers were installing onsite.

Costume rehearsals went without a hitch, and the archangel had not heard a single peep from Aziraphale. He was deeply pleased.

Getting the demon on-board was a good choice after all.

Gabriel didn't really consider this to be consorting with the Enemy. Rather, he thought of it as more like an arranged convenience with someone who happened to be the enemy. Besides, Aziraphale needed the company. Gabriel feared many times that had the Principality been mortal, he's have suffered an emotional breakdown in less than 3 months into their assignment. The archangel felt for his celestial brother, it was hard enough to be stationed alone on Earth for the last few thousand years and now, Heaven had to uproot him and take him from everything that made him feel secure. Gabriel sometimes suspected that this was some sort of payback for Aziraphale's role in the failed-armageddon, but he liked to think their side wasn't that vindictive. Anyway, it wasn't as if Heaven wasn't aware of the demon's relationship with Aziraphale. A wholly unprecedented turn of events for sure, but amazingly tolerated by Him. If He would not touch the two, then who was Gabriel to go against it?

Gabriel stood quietly, smiling backstage as he watched Aziraphale practice the opening choreography with his backup dancers, Crowley sitting just a-ways off pretending not to be interested. His fellow angel was luckier than he thought he was; to have the singular love of another individual; but more importantly; Aziraphale was a greater embodiment of goodness than most of his brethren could hope to be - for who has a heart to love the greatest of enemies?

*******

Aziraphale could hear the hustle of people just outside his dressing room - the orchestrated madness that was always any huge production such as this. Aziraphale found it unsettling while Crowley practically revelled in it.

"Nervous, angel?"

Aziraphale sniffed, "Of course not." though he was already feeling the jitters which always came before he stepped onstage. He'll never get used to it, he surmised. "I don't suppose you'll understand the feeling anyway Crowley."

The demon grinned, "Nope. I suppose not." He scrutinized the angel's appearance, never in a thousand years could he have thought Aziraphale would look so... delicious. For sure, he's always thought the angel was beautiful, but never had Aziraphale been the complete package of up-to-date fashion, youth and impeccable styling all at once.

Aziraphale must have noticed the look, and found himself blushing. "Don't look at me like that Crowley." he said quietly, and tried to smooth out non-existent wrinkles in his white faux-leather jacket, a pair of stylized wings were embroidered on the back .

"Like what?" the demon's eyes took in the rest of Aziraphale's countenance, tight blue jeans and a gray shirt which complemented the angel's pale eyes.

"Like that. I don't need to see past those sunglasses to know."

There was a sharp knock on the door; "10 minutes Azira."

"Yeah, I'll be right out." Aziraphale called back and turned to check himself in the mirror one last time. He picked up a waiting white fedora and put it on. "Wish me luck?"

Crowley smiled, "Break a leg, angel." Aziraphale was about to open the door when he added quickly; "Then they'll have to let you get some rest. Maybe let you sleep in til you heal up."

"Don't be such a sourpuss, my dear." Aziraphale leaned forward to give the demon a kiss, but was stopped by a couple of fingers on his lips.

A mischievous smiled played upon Crowley's face, "Save it for later, I'll be looking forward to it."

The angel was blushing furiously, but nonetheless pulled away with a glowing smile. "Later then, I'll see you in a bit." He gave Crowley's fingertips a quick kiss then left to sing for his adoring fans.

*******

The stage was set, the opening act done, and the noise was deafening. crowley found himself a comfortable nook to watch unseen, still quite amazed at the sight. Never had he imagined a setting like this, but then again, he's never imagined a lot of the things he's just seen Aziraphale do over the past weeks. A smiled formed at the corners of his thin lips, yes, Aziraphale learned new things to do too in bed that he'd never thought the angel would. A sense of anticipation resurged in the pit of his stomach. He was indeed looking forward to hearing 'Azira'sing, but he was definitely looking forward to their after-party.

The fans were chanting his angel's name, security doing its best to keep the crowd in check (Crowley successfully tempted one though into breaking away from formation to grab a hotdog the man's been longing for all night - doesn't mean a demon should be taking a break while the powers of good were basically trouncing upon evil tonight, even if he was here technically just to watch); the dancers dressed as rather attractive imps were gyrating in-sync onstage. The light show was awesome, the stage bathed in red and streams of laser lights. Crowley had sat through rehearsals and knew the sequence, yet it was entirely different watching the show replete with the lights, the defeaning sounds and the roaring crowd. The music was upbeat and as be-bop as Aziraphale could describe anything, working the audience in anticipation for Azira's appearance. The beats came up to a crescendo, the dancers circling towards the center and the fog machine turned on in perfect synchronicity as the lights in the concert hall died simultaneously and a single blue-white spotlight trained itself where the dancers were posed.

There was silence for but a moment, the audience were still, holding their breaths, even Crowley found himself doing the same. A dais raised itself from underneath the stage, rising above the heads of the dancers and stopping as the beggining of Azira's song 'Longing' started playing. There was a moment of confusion though and the crowd suddenly erupted into screams.

Crowleys eyes were wide and mouth agape, he was on his feet in a second.

Aziraphale was nowhere to be found; his micophone and fedora lying messily discarded on the raised stage. The hat was the most damning; its white stained with blood so black under the blue light.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: Oh Aziraphale, I want to be your stalker. *Manic Sigh* Unfortunately, you and Crowley can never be mine. *Sob*

**ALL IN A LIFETIME'S WORK  
Chapter 7**

Aziraphale stirred with a massive headache. Something sticky had almost glued his left eye shut, and he had to make a great effort to open his eyes. He saw red through the left and realized it was blood. His blood. His mind reeled with pain and confusion, trying to connect two and two together. Why in heaven's name was he in tremendous pain and... why cant he seem to move his arms or legs? Wasn't he supposed to be singing right now?

"Mister? Mister!"

A small voice tried to cut through the haze of confusion and helped Aziraphale focus a bit. He raised his head, and almost threw up from dizziness.

"Mister please wake up. Please wake up!" The voice's urgency snapped the dazed angel to narrowing his eyes to concentrate. He tried his best to take stock on his situation; he felt his arms bound tightly behind the chair he was sitting in, his ankles tied securely to his seat's legs. Aziraphale realized that his jacket was gone, his sneakers too, bare feet touching the cold cement floor. A large pool of blood was clotted down the left side of his shirt. His mind was swimming in panic and he willed his bounds to be gone.

Nothing happened.

"Mister! Get up, he's coming back soon. You have to get up. You have to!"

Aziraphale swallowed, mouth dry; who was that? The voice was small, like a little girl's, shrill and bordering on hysteria. "Who?" he asked hoarsely. He had a throbbing headache.

"Him!" she was so close to sobbing, "Him, he's coming. Hurry mister angel sir. Hurry! You're an angel, right? He says you are. You can save us mister. I know you can." The girl was babbling, and Aziraphale's vision finally focused onto a young girl crammed into a small cage of sorts a few meters from him. She seemed to be wearing a private school uniform, dirty and torn, her mousy brown hair tangled into a mess framing her small desperate face. It broke Aziraphale's heart. She couldn't be more than 12.

"Tell me who's coming. Where are we?"

She pressed her face closer to her prison's bars, "I don't know. But he's a bad man mister. He's bad. He'll kill us. He will! Mister angel, free us _please_."

Aziraphale wondered at this, angel? Why or how would she guess? The answer though was for him to see soon enough; as his pale eyes roamed the room to take stock of their situation, a shocking sight greeted him. The room, an abandoned studio of sorts was large and had walls covered floor to ceiling of news clippings, posters, memorabilia, graffiti, maps and knick knacks all on Azira. His face, cut out from various magazines and posters, even clothes he recognized were his littered the place, pictures he did not recall having been taken. Wings were scrawled everywhere as well as graffiti. There were no windows, and there were only a smattering of furniture; a table nearby, a few more chairs, a television and refrigerator, a bed. He'd scarcely realized that his stomach had turned itself inside-out when he heard footsteps coming down an unseen set of stairs.

"No!" the girl whispered harshly, "No, no, no... he's here!"

"I see you've made friends Azira." the horrified Principality turned to the voice, finding a young man smiling down at him. He almost looked like he had fangs. "Or should I call you Aziraphale?"

*******

"Where is he Crawly?!" The archangel glowered at his human form's most menacing, "Where is Aziraphale?!". He was beyond furious, he was beyond all anger. He probably couldn't have articulated what he felt at that moment even if he wanted to. Gabriel was worried to pieces and angry beyond description at how something like this could happen under his watch. It was taking all of his self-control to keep his sword from materialising and smiting every vaguely evil little thing in sight. It certainly didn't help that a demon was standing next to him.

Crowley on the other hand was also righteously angry but knew enough to hold back. He's seen what archangels can do, and none of them had been half as crazy-mad as Gabriel was right now. He didn't want to take his chances. He'd also die first before losing face to the enemy by bawling his eyes out. "I don't know. But, do you actually think Hell's so stupid to take one of yours?"

"You tell me snake, nothing like this ever happened until you showed up."

"Maybe I didn't need to Gabriel. This was bound to happen. You put Aziraphale out there and expect only good things to happen?" Crowley snapped, "Wow. Where have you been to? Didn't you even think of giving the angel some sort of security?"

Gabriel sniffed, "I distinctly remember you telling Aziraphale that no mortal could probably take down an angel."

"Didn't know angels eavesdropped. Aside from being so inanely naive."

"I was not eavesdropping. You were well within earshot." There was a moment of silence, and Gabriel took a deep breath. "This isn't helping us find Aziraphale."

Damn right, Crowley wanted to say, but bit it down. He looked around; Aziraphale's dressing room had literally been turned upside down in the hopes of finding any sort of clue. It was only Crowley's recollection of the unusual later a week back that held any lead. They both stood there, unable to comprehend that their bodies were steeped in shock. It was Gabriel who spoke first breaking the uncomfortable silence;

"I will ask Heaven if they know where he is. But I truly doubt they would." Gabriel looked away, as if debating wether or not to trust the demon. Yet Aziraphale's trusted him, so Gabriel went with his instincts and continued. "I can't sense him. If I can't, then there isn't much else my side would know anyway."

Crowley nodded grimly "I can't either." he turned to leave and the archangel watched him.

"Then where are you going?"

"To find Aziraphale."

"How are you going to do that?"

"I frankly don't know." Crowley paused before exiting through the door, "But I _will _find him Gabriel. With or without heaven's help. And when I do, I will tear that bastard who took Aziraphale limb from limb and shove his soul into Beelzebub's a--"

There was a sharp laugh in a voice equally grim, "Please don't demon," A pause and tight-lipped smile, "You'll have to leave some for me."

******

"Why do you look so surprised Aziraphale? Really. I should say that the expression doesn't suit you like they do in the movies." The man leaned down to study the angel's face with a half-smile playing upon his lips. "Though... I think it does. So horribly endearing i must say."

Aziraphale watched him with wide eyes, finally connecting two and two together. "You're the one who sent me a letter..." He swallowed, watching the man smile like a very efficient predator, dark green eyes glowing with glee. Aziraphale realized that he was rather tall, taller than Crowley probably; and had he passed him on the street, the man would have constituted a fairly good example of human beauty. His eyes though, told of a very different asset; an insanely malicious flame burning within.

"Yes. You never wrote back. It hurt me you know. You hurt me." he sighed picking up things distractedly on a nearby table, putting them back down. Aziraphale's terrified mind registered them as parts for a firearm. "Especially when I watched your interview on TV. You had someone else. That Oprah-bitch, can't even extract any really good information out of you. But I have to thank her though, if it wasn't for her, I would never have known you were going out behind my back."

The man turned back to the angel, face contorted in anger. "How fucking could you?!" he punched Aziraphale's jaw and his head snapped to the side. The pain was unbelievable, Aziraphale's vision clouded almost to darkness. He willed the pain to go away, but it just won't. Why wouldn't his body obey him?! This realization doubled the angel's panic. Something was wrong.

"Angels aren't supposed to hurt people. Angels aren't supposed to cheat!" The man shouted with a force that belied his lunacy.

"I've ... never... cheated. Not... ever." Aziraphale's said in between labored breaths, forcing down the building nausea, this place felt very wrong now. He hasn't felt this aura in years... thousands of years. He forced himself to focus; talk he told himself, get as much information as you can. Stay calm. "Wh-what is your name?" he braced himself, expecting another blow.

"John." was the reply. It was quietly said and the pain Aziraphale expected didn't come, he almost sighed in relief. "Your lover must have taken all my letters from you. Forced you to forget about me." John picked up a waiting gun at the table, "But I can make you love me again, angel. I can"

Aziraphale looked away, "Why do you say I'm an angel?"

John seemed to like this question and slid the gun between his belt and jeans. He leaned back on the table, ignoring the sobbing girl a few feet away. "Its rather obvious. You glow when you sing Aziraphale. I can almost see your halo sometimes."

"People see what they want to see... John."

"Yes. They only see those bright lights behind you, they only see your clothes, your face, your mortal body." John's eyes roamed the room, "There were so many clues, people are just blind. But I'm not. I'm real smart. I am.

You're Azira Fell. You're also A. Ziraphael. It took me a long time to realize this, you liked keeping secrets from me. I know you've never been born. You have no papers, nothing. Just taxes. You're real good with your taxes.

I knew for sure you're an angel when you saved that girl who came onstage for your concert. That was last year. You knew she was dying, and you took away her cancer. I know. I followed that bitch home for daring to touch you my angel. She didn't even know she was cured then, but I, I watched her. I watched her realize the miracle. That's how I found out."

John's eyes were unfocused and manic. "Then that got me thinking, is that why you pretended not to know me? You were afraid I'd found out your secret? But it was something else apparently. You were getting rid of me."

Aziraphale tore his gaze away from the stairs behind him thinking desperately of a plan to escape. He eyed the terrified girl. Her eyes were tear-streaked and as wide as the angel's. "Then what does she have to do with any of this? Let her go. Then we can talk... about this."

"Oh. Quite a lot." John smiled, "She's here to make sure you do everything I want you to do." he said matter of factly, slowly sidling up to the bound angel. He leaned forward to caress Aziraphale's cheek as he sat down to straddled him in one catlike motion. He wrapped his arms around the angel's neck, "I'm sure you've realized how mortal you are in this room. Probably what took me the longest was finding the right combination of demonic sigils and latin texts to keep you mortal. At least in here."

It was then that Aziraphale realized just what the graffiti was, he just couldn't see the sigils because his vision had been reduced to a human's. He swallowed nervously, "Then you know that all I have to do is escape this body."

John pressed his forehead to Aziraphale's and closed his eyes, "Of course. So why would I let that happen by killing you? We've got so much catching up to do, and I know you can be quite stubborn if you wanted to. There's only so much pain I can inflict, and I know you will endure it. So whats the solution?" He opened his eyes and turned his gaze towards the terrified young girl, and Aziraphale was no idiot to realize what he meant.

"Oh don't you dare hurt the little one." Aziraphale uttered angrily under his breath.

"That depends on how compliant you can be." The smile on John's face was feral. "Now kiss me angel. Make it up to me."

Aziraphale looked away, his heart hammering, this could not be happening to him. Every fiber in his being fought against it, he felt trapped and cornered and he would gladly die sooner than let anything happen to the girl. He closed his eyes and steeled himself as he leaned forward begrudgingly and brought his mouth to his captor's. The kiss was dreadful and cold, Aziraphale forcing himself to press his lips to the other's. He withdrew, cheeks aflame, ashamed and disgusted, and he felt a hard slap sting his face.

"You call that a kiss?" John withdrew the gun from his belt and snapped off its safety. "You disappoint me Aziraphale. I said, _kiss me_."

"I... I c -can't. I _won't_." Aziraphale stammered. He will not. He will not! His mind told itself. "I will not."

"Are you sure?" John trained the gun towards the little girl's cage, and if her eyes could have widened any further it would have filled half her face.

"L-lets be reasonable, John. You can't do this. I can't."

"Stop being stubborn angel. " he fired off a shot towards the girl and she yelled. It was a tremendous sound, and there was a terrible moment before they heard her screaming and sobbing, a hole burned into a wall not a few inches from her head.

John turned back to Aziraphale who was the perfect picture of horror.

"Now. Kiss me Aziraphale. Kiss me the way you kiss your lover."


	8. Chapter 8

Author's Note: this is my fastest one to-date. Whew! Newly rated this to M just to be safe; I know I must be living in an idealized world for thinking that many 16 year-olds won't have a more colorful vocabulary than I do.

**ALL IN A LIFETIME'S WORK  
Chapter 8**

Crowley careened down the street at a speed previously thought of as impossible on traffic-logged Park avenue driving away from the garden. His car - or rather, his 'appropriated' car - was a red Ford mustang convertible. It was fast, sleek and sexy, but really no comparison to his beloved Bentley waiting back home in Mayfair. He's thought about having it shipped to New York for the time he'll be spending playing "assistant" to the angel, planning to have told Aziraphale tonight after the concert. Crowley knew the angel would have loved that, knowing in that small act that the demon was in a sense moving in with him.

But that was a few hours ago. All thoughts of his car, his plans, his after-party with the angel had flown out the window. There was a single thought running through the demon's mind as he banked left and narrowly missed a taxi cab;

Find Aziraphale.

Find Aziraphale and that fucking bastard that took him.

Crowley slammed his foot harder on the gas, turned right and sped as a red blur down 42nd street. He was worried, he was thinking desperately of the few million places Aziraphale could be right now. Gabriel was right, he couldn't sense Aziraphale now. He couldn't sense the holy aura anywhere on this planet and that worried the shit out of him. The gravity of this fact scared the demon more than he cared to admit to himself. He could be anywhere or nowhere right now. Wiped out of existence... or worse. The thought of forever losing Aziraphale was something he had never _ever_ hoped to endure in his existence. He wiped furiously at his cheek with the back of his hand, scarcely realizing that tears were falling down his face. Demons don't cry, he angrily told himself. They don't love either, another voice in his head mocked him.

Yeah, right.

Too many things in this world have proven to him that angels and demons were not set with these rules for eternity. He clenched his jaw and concentrated back to the task at hand.

Hell didnt have Aziraphale, or he would have known by now. He was sure of that. News of a captured angel would have travelled fast down the grapevine. He jabbed his finger at the radio and it came to life. All of the radio stations were talking about Azira's disappearance and the demon knew Gabriel was working with the police. Big help that would do, he thought sourly as he flipped through more stations. All the same. It depressed him all the more, and he finally stopped at the lone station that wasn't talking about Aziraphale. It was playing 50's songs.

He drove blindly, hoping to feel something, sense anything that would lead him to the angel. Then the crooning voice from the radio stopped abruptly and a voice all too familiar spoke;

_HELLO CROWLEY, WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING?_

*******

_"Now. Kiss me Aziraphale. Kiss me the way you kiss your lover."_

Aziraphale's mind filled with despair. He had no choice, he struggled furiously against his bonds and found his strength no more than an average mortal's. His mind struggled to come up with a plan, any plan that could help him out.

"I... I can't." Aziraphale braced himself for another blow, "I can't with my hands tied behind my back." he said nervously. It was vaguely technically true and he latched onto that semblance of truth to work with. He supposed lying isn't such a big sin to worry about right now.

John watched him carefully, suspicious. "Don't dare lie to me Aziraphale. I know you."

"Then - then you know I can't lie to you right now. Not after what I've... done." Aziraphale said quickly, "I need my hands to show you..." he swallowed down the bile threatening to come up his throat, "... to show you exactly how I want to make it up to you."

A smile spread across his captor's face, "Oh Aziraphale, I knew you can never forget your love for me." he reached forward and hugged the angel, resting his head on Aziraphale's shoulder. "Alright, but just one hand for now. I know you can be really sneaky if you wanted to." He reached carefully behind the angel and started untying the rope.

"You know me," Aziraphale forced a light laugh as he felt his right wrist being worked free from the rope. He looked at the terrified girl watching and he pursed his lips into a silent 'shhh'and she nodded, understanding.

As soon as he felt his right arm free, he flexed it tentatively feeling his joints cracking. It tingled a bit, parts of it being deprived of blood for quite a bit of time now. The feeling was rather alien to Aziraphale who never knew how 'pins and needles' felt like. "Thank you." he said weakly.

John drew back a little and watched his captive's face, "You're welcome. Now, where were we?"

*******

Great. Just great. They just had to come in calling now of all times.

"Yes, lord."

_WHERE ARE YOU GOING CROWLEY?_

Crowley bit his lip and wondered if there was any chance in hell that they didn't already know what he was doing. Lying he thought would be pointless right now, so he opted for vague (although he was quite sure that would futile as well). "I'm looking for someone, lord."

_ARE YOU LOOKING FOR THE ANGEL CROWLEY?_

He cleared his throat and answered in a small voice, "Yes." Oh great. Now he's really in for it. "I can explain sir, see - er --"

_GOOD CROWLEY._

"P-pardon sir?" His face could have won 'Best Double-Take Of the Century'.

_WE WANT YOU TO FIND JONATHAN SKIMS CROWLEY._

"Jonathan Skims?"

_WE DISAPPROVE GREATLY OF HIS USE OF ARCANE KNOWLEDGE AND DEMONIC SECRETS. MEN ARE NOT MEANT TO WIELD SUCH POWER. _There was a thoughtful pause._ HE'S ZAPPING TOO MUCH ENERGY FROM THE POWER GRID, THE BOYS DOWN HERE AREN'T TOO HAPPY WITH THAT. THE BOSS' COFFEE HAS GONE COLD._

_NOBODY WANTS THE BOSS' COFFEE TO GO COLD, CROWLEY._

Crowley, on some working level of his mind understood completely, yet he still couldn't believe it.

_JONATHAN SKIMS ISN'T AUTHORIZED TO CONSUME THAT MUCH OF HELL'S ENERGY EVEN IF IT MEANS CONTAINING AN ANGEL, CROWLEY. WE KNOW WHERE HE IS._

And just like that the information was in Crowley's head. On any given day, he hated it whenever they basically dumped everything in one go into your mind. But this was not any given day and he recieved the information almost gratefully. It was his second double-take, he couldn't believe where Aziraphale was. No way. He slammed on the brakes and took the sharpest U-turn on the face of the planet and sped back towards Madison square.

"Th - thank you my lord. It will be done."

Oh it will be done alright. This Jonathan Skims will wish he was never born, Crowley grimly promised.

Lucky. Aziraphale was absurdly lucky the stupid human chose the most energy-inefficient sigils to mask the angel's aura.

It took raw firmament for both angels and demons to basically do anything 'out of the ordinary'. Both sides used it for a wide variety of purposes, from powering all things such as miracles and misdeeds to playing with memories to... just about everything. The size of the task to be done demanded a comensurate amount of firmament; making an angel mortal and holding him secret from the eyes of both heaven and hell was by no means a remotely cheap expenditure of the stuff. Down Below was simply running low on it and nobody wants anyone to be more pissed than they already are; not especially the lords of Hell who were walking psychological timebombs as it were. Besides, it wasn't as if hell would ever want to save an angel, even a singing one at that. Right?

_GOOD CROWLEY_

Crowley nodded, taking a left onto Madison avenue.

_... AND CROWLEY, SEND IN A FEW AUTOGRAPHED TICKETS TO THE CONCERT WHEN THE ANGEL'S TOUR RESUMES. WE HAVE BEEN WATCHING WITH GREAT INTEREST.  
_

"What?!"


	9. Chapter 9

Author's Note: Violence alert! (With minor traces of humor). I thoroughly enjoyed writing this Chapter for some reason. Hmmm.. weird. Anyway, let me know what you guys think! Reviews are always welcome.

**ALL IN A LIFETIME'S WORK  
Chapter 9**

Airaphale's plan was simple, as simple as tying your shoelaces really: Get Out of the Chair. The only worrying thing about it actually was that it involved plenty of cunning and deceit. Aziraphale as an angel, though he could consider himself as marginally cunning if the need arose (and the need now was, by any measure, in his existence so far the most pressing of needs). However, Aziraphale knew he was no master deception, not even a paduan - as one of his graphic artists once said (giving him his one and only lesson in science fiction terminology). Aziraphale couldn't have even hoped, had he had a normal human childhood, to tell his preschool teacher how the dog ate his homework_1_ in any convincing manner whatsoever.

Thusly, Aziraphale knew the dangers and imminent challenge of what he was about to do. He's been eyeing the graffiti for some time now, recognizing the latin incantations and sigils that was keeping him mortally bound. They worked alright, however haphazard they were, yet even in Aziraphale's desperate mind, he was thinking that they could have been made more elegant. He could tell that the sigils were cumulatively consuming more and more raw energy and his angelic mind realized for the briefest (and weirdest) of moments that he knew the exact combinations to make the sigils more effective, consume less firmament and even decorate the place in a more pleasing manner.

"Now where were we?" John's voice shook him out of his reverie and the angel realized how close he was probably to losing it.

"Er... yes." Aziraphale cleared his throat and flexed his fingers some more, stalling for more time, waiting for some strength to return. In the back of his head, he was also holding out some hope that Crowley would come find him even if he knew that the latin on the walls took all chances of that. No celestial or infernal being can find him now, he knew. He swallowed, biting that fear down.

He brought up his freed hand to John's face and carefully brushed away the dark hair covering the eyes, mimicking something Crowley has always done for him. Aziraphale felt sick with just the thought and clenched his jaw.

John seemed to like this and leaned his cheek into the angel's palm. "Yes, I've missed you so much Aziraphale." he purred.

"M-me too, I -" Aziraphale was about to say something when without warning, John suddenly leaned forward and caught Aziraphale's lips, kissing the angel fervently.

Aziraphale gave a surprised yelp; it took all control not to push the offending face away. To bite and claw away those unwelcome lips. He felt John slip in his tongue, tasting him, taking advantage of his captive's gasp while his hands wandered down pulling at the angel's shirt. Aziraphale lost no time working on untying his left hand hurriedly, trying to clear his mind of this terrible situation. Never had he felt so violated and so angry.

Just a little more Aziraphale, just a few seconds more, he kept telling himself. The litany the only thing keeping his mind from completely shutting down.

Just - a - little - more.

*******

"Just a little more, just hold out a bit more angel." Crowley was muttering under his breath as he found himself stuck in unbelievable traffic, the red Ford slowing down to a mere crawl on Madison avenue. Crowley was already feeling the drain of firmament; he couldn't make the traffic budge nor make a way as he was so accustomed to doing. He was fiercely imagining traffic to part like the red sea before him and reality was tenaciously fighting back. Frustrated, he punched the dash viciously, and realized with a start that although he could still will the pain away, it did so only after several attempts.

It only took a second's decision before he sprang out of the car and started running, paying no heed to the honking horns and cursing. He knew exactly where Aziraphale was and he couldn't decide now if that information hurt more than not knowing at all. Now all of the things that could be happening to Aziraphale were relentlessly going through his mind. All of the bad things, and he needed no imagination for that; he was a demon after all.

It took him several minutes to reach one of the backstage entrances to the garden, panting and out of breath. Crowley didn't realize til then that this body of his might look good but needed more exercise than he was willing to admit. He couldn't remember the last time he felt really tired, he's simply gotten so used to having access to limitless firmament - or at least as much as he ever needed or wanted. Crowley pushed at one of the large double doors realizing that this must be one of the theater entrances for stage props and the like. It wouldn't budge and a blinking red light by a security panel mocked the demon.

"Oh you've _got_ to be fucking kidding me."

It was the first time in recorded (and unrecorded) history that a lock successfully thwarted Anthony J. Crowley.

*******

Aziraphale felt one of the ropes unravel and he quickly started working his left arm loose. The movement however caused John to pause and he looked accusingly into Aziraphales eyes.

Had the angel had not just endured one of the most difficult minutes of his life, he would have felt the default pang of guilt built-in by his Heavenly maker. He didn't.

There was but a moment and he seized the opportunity and swung his right fist as hard as he could, hitting the stalker right-smack in the jaw. They both felt something crack and Aziraphale ignored the searing pain his knuckles were sending up to his brain. John staggered back, the force quite literally pushing him right off Aziraphale's lap and crashing down onto the concrete floor.

Aziraphale tried his best not to feel smug at hurting the young man but dismally failed - he ought to be justified this one time, he thought. He took no time trying to wring his other hand free from his bonds, taking a few agonizing seconds, and quickly set to work to free his ankles.

John was beginning to stir groggily and Aziraphale could feel his heart hammering loudly in his chest.

*******

Unfortunately for the triumphant lock it success would only be short lived; breaking and entering was, and always will be, one of Crowley's many talents - with or without demonic powers.

The demon ran for all that he was worth down a narrow hall clutching a crowbar tightly in his hand. It had taken all of his concentration and most intense imagining to will the tool into reality. He figured he'll need to hang onto it, Crowley didn't know when or if he'll be able to pull off that trick again until the sigils are removed.

It was quite literally a maze of corridors and halls visitors to the famous Madison Square Garden never see - a confusing series of interconnected utility and endless storage areas, backstages and greenrooms. Some employees still claim to find navigating this warren of passages and rooms a challenge, but Crowley was no mortal. He took a series of lefts and rights, and taking to the utility stairs moving slowly down into the lower level of the building as if he designed the building complex himself.

He had to give credit to this Jonathan Skims, genius little bugger he is, hiding where none of them would ever think to look first. Not only that, it allowed Skims all the stalking hours to learn the easiest route to take Aziraphale. Only he would know then that the angel would be left alone for a good 5 minutes in a less frequented basement area before he appears onstage. Crowley's mind all too easily surmised how easy it must have been to sneak up on the all-too trusting angel and the demon's gut wrenched at the thought that Aziraphale must have already been taken those precious minutes he was watching the light show.

Crowley always knew how evilly creative humans can be - Skims didn't even need his tempting - but this one took the cake. He's seen countless murderers and killers over the millenia, more heinous than the other, enough to make his stomach turn, but this one - this one dared touch his angel.

This was fucking _personal_.

*******

"Hurry! Hurry!" the girl was whispering in a shrill voice, watching in horror as John tried to shake his head clear of the pain. "Mister angel, he's getting up!"

"I know." Aziraphale said, teeth clenched as he struggled to loosen his ankles, his hands were shaking.

Shit. Shit. Shit!

His mind was cursing nonstop, he could nearly feel tears forming at the corners of his eyes - out of fear and frustration. By the time he freed his left leg, John had managed to dazedly pull himself up.

"_Mister angel!_"

Aziraphale had barely tugged his other ankle free when he looked up just in time to find John glowering down at him. His mind barely registered the moving fist and it hit him with blinding pain. He staggered forward, now free of the chair, scrambling to get to his feet.

"You sneaky sneaky angel!" John shouted and Aziraphale felt a kick right into his midsection knocking the wind out of him.

Aziraphale coughed and spat out blood, breathing heavily. It was only by tremendous force of will that he kept himself from fainting.

John grabbed him by the hair and pulled Aziraphale into facing the terror stricken girl. "You fucking angel. Now its going to be your fucking fault sweet little Catrina would have to die." he grabbed for his gun and aimed right between her eyes.

This close, Aziraphale knew in horror that he wouldn't miss like the first time.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

1 Of course, had Aziraphale grown up a normal human child, he wouldn't have had the problem of explaining missing homework in the first place since he's already worked on next week's lesson just to be the pious student he's expected to be. Although on the other hand, for the sake of argument, he may still have had to explain missing homework had Crowley grown up with him as one of the brattiest human children preschool teachers have ever known.


	10. Chapter 10

Author's Note: Thanks so much to everyone who bothers to read, follow and review this. I'm very very grateful. As always, reviews are most welcome! And now, on to the story!

**ALL IN A LIFETIME'S WORK  
Chapter 10**

Gabriel had recieved the demon's call 20 minutes ago. The demon knew exactly where Aziraphale was and the archangel could only speculate on how he did. He was walking hurriedly with four policemen, the detective in charge who had introduced himself as Lt. D'?osta leading the way. They didn't question why Gabriel knew, it was simply a fact that men never second-guessed the opinions of divine beings in their midst.

He could feel the sweat trickling down his temple, and fought the instinctive urge to miracle it away; couldn't be too careful with these humans. Little things like that piqued their curiosity, and they were very curious indeed. Gabriel clenched his jaw, praying that Aziraphale was alright.

*******

Crowley was running like he's never had before, not even the time he was caught in Pompeii the night Vesuvius erupted and turned the Roman city into a smoldering time capsule.

He was so, so close, he was feeling the firmament in the air growing thicker and he drew upon this - Crowley couldn't shape it yet, but it certainly bolstered his strength and endurance. He saw the nondescript door just down the narrow hallway, looking old and battered just like the rest of this area in the complex. Crowley was no architect, but from the knowledge given to him by the lords of Hell, he deduced that this was an old studio, built over and forgotten as Madison square remodelled and grew over the years.

Crowley finally faced the door breathing hard, beyond it would be Aziraphale and Jonathan Skims. He was almost too afraid to find what was beyond it. What if he was too late? What if Aziraphale's sufferred too much he'd never be the same again? Its been over an hour now since, and the demon knew all too well how much could happen in just those sixty minutes. He swallowed, and placed his hand on the doorknob.

*******

Aziraphale couldn't believe what was happening. How could it all have gone so wrong? He was only doing his job, granted he didn't really like the job to begin with, but he did it anyway. Mighty well too, if he did think so himself. He was just a singer, an angel doing what he was told to do. How could he drive someone to do something so horrible, so... fantastically evil? Him! A holy being!

He forcibly focused his eyes on the young girl, she was just as terrified, tired and drained as he was. Aziraphale could only imagine how long she's endured alone in this room, locked like an animal in a cage, and now, staring down the barrel of a gun. A child must never experience something like this, no man should ever be forced look upon a weapon that was about to take his life. She doesn't deserve this. Was it his fault as well for what she has endured?

Aziraphale closed his eyes for a moment, almost numb from exhaustion, his injuries and loss of blood catching up to his body. So this was how it felt to be human. It was all pain. All pain and no power to do anything about it.

No. He can't let it happen like this. He can't let this madman take a life on his watch. Never on his watch.

"Don't you dare hurt that child." the angel hissed.

John jerked the angel's head up and Aziraphale winced at the pain, "What did you say?"

Aziraphale summoned all of his energy, he was an angel. He may be mortal now, but he's still an angel. An angel thats been on this Earth for some odd 4000 years and another couple millenia fighting against real demons. He curled his fist and uttered with a voice and conviction he hasn't used in centuries;

"_I said, don't you dare hurt that child._"

Had John had a sensible head on his shoulders, he would have recognized the deadly tone - a tone uttered by one older than any human can fathom.

He didn't.

His mind only cared for what he wanted and what had to be done to get what he wanted. And he wanted Aziraphale's full cooperation. He'll hurt, maim and kill as many as it takes to break his angel's will. John, born Jonathan Cain Skims to a pair of negligent parents, couldn't have even comprehended how Aziraphale's change in mindset had just evened out the playing field.

"Or what angel? You'll kill me?"

Aziraphale grabbed at the wrist holding his hair, "No. Or at least, I hope not." He pulled down as hard as he can on his captor's arm, bending down and using his own weight to throw John off-balance.

This caught John completely by surprise, and realized as he fell on the floor that the angel had practically broken his left wrist. He landed with his other hand, gun clutched and onto his elbow. He rolled onto his back to find Aziraphale standing over him, blocking out the light. The angel's near-silhouette outlined by the light giving John his first real fear of the divine.

John brought up his hands as Aziraphale delivered a blow to his jaw and another jab to his face. He fought the darkening edges in his vision and took the opportunity to kick his opponent in the stomach.

Aziraphale was thrown back, crashing into the chair that had held him, causing him to tumble backwards. He grunted in surprise as John scrambled to get up.

Now, roles reversed, John glowered down on the angel the manic glow in his eyes bright with anticipation. He brought up his gun, left arm hanging limply at his side. "You have to calm down Aziraphale." John kneeled on one leg, and pushed the barrel of the gun to the angel's shoulder. "Calm down, okay?"

John squeezed the trigger and Aziraphale screamed in pain as he felt the bullet enter his flesh and shatter bones. He watched in horror as blood flew everywhere before his eyes.

The girl screamed at the top of her lungs.

*******

Crowley had kicked in the door the moment he heard the gunshot, almost tumbling down the stairs. All rational thought escaped him when he saw Aziraphale's prone body drenched in its blood, a man holding a gun.

He was at the man's side in an instant, the unfortunate soul barely realizing what was happening until Crowley had sent him flying across the room with a blow to the chest, gun thrown right off his hand.

"Crowley?" the voice sounded excruciating to the demon's ears, and he kneeled down to look at Aziraphale. The angel was breathing hard and shallow, eyes half-lidded with pain. "How did you find me, my dear?" He tried to smile, the demon was the most welcome of sights.

"Shhh." he held Aziraphale's hand and felt the broken knuckles. "You rest up a bit alright? I'll be right back."

Crowley got up, and straightened his coat. He started walking towards where Skims was crumpled to the floor trying desperately to catch his breath, the crowbar had hit him hard enough to leave an impression across his torso. His face was twisted in agony, ribs broken, he couldn't breathe. Crowley's lips curled into a menacing smile, serpentine tongue slithering in and out tasting the fear in the air. He threw the bent crowbar aside.

"Jonathan Skimssss."

"Wh-who are you?" Skims pushed himself flat against the wall, and if he could have, pushed himself as far away from the man before him. His terror-filled eyes were trained on the forked tongue, "What are you?"

Crowley paused before the man and grabbed him by the collar, his smile could have melted Skim's face off. "You didn't think only angelsss existed on this world, did you?" He picked up the man without effort and threw him headfirst into a corner. There was a loud thud and moans of pain followed. Crowley was sure he broke a few more bones but that was not enough. It won't ever be enough payment for what he had done to Aziraphale.

He walked slowly towards the human entangled in a heap of pain and fear, knowing that each slow and measured step only heightened Skim's terror. He took a sidelong glance at the little girl watching with wide glassy eyes, knuckles white on her cage. "Tsk. What kind of coward are you? Using a little girl." Crowley roughly hauled up Skims forcefully slamming his face into the concrete wall.

"P-please... I'm sorry. Please..." he sobbed pitifully. Blood and some spittle dribbling from the corner of his mouth.

But Crowley's vengeance would not be sated. Taking off his sunglasses with his free hand, he peered over at the poor human, staring at him with slitted golden eyes. His back to the girl and Aziraphale, he allowed Skims a priveledge so few humans have been so unfortunate to see; Crowley's face began to change, cheeks growing taught over snakelike bones, scales began to appear and his canines grew further into sharp needle-like fangs. It was a terrible sight to behold, and it was about that time that Jonathan Skims lost all control of his bladder.

Crowley was hissing with dry amusement, "You will regret that you were even born Ssskimssss"

"FREEZE! Nobody move!"

There was a scuffling of feet and the patter of leather shoes and boots quickly coming down the stairs, Crowley didn't have to turn to know who it was. He heard guns cocked and he smirked at Skims.

Crowley gave Skims one last shove before letting him go, "Lucky bastard," he hissed, "Don't even think this is the last you'll see of me."

"I said freeze!"

When Crowley turned, his face was as it had always was, the humans none-the-wiser. He had his hands raised, just to be cautious and Gabriel rushed forward.

"It's okay, it's okay. He's with us." Gabriel said gesturing to the demon. He pushed past the policemen and rushed to Aziraphale's side where Crowley too was heading. The archangel's hands were trembling as his vision registered the sigils written all over the room. He too was beginning to feel very queasy inside the room.

Behind the trio, the police were busy cuffing Skims who was screaming 'the devil! The devil is among us!'. They found the young girl and began working to free her while the liteunant was calling for back up and paramedics.

Crowley had a half-smile, as he knelt down to check on Aziraphale. "I wish I could say that was true." He grabbed the angel's hand and realized with a start that it was cold, "Aziraphale?"

Aziraphale took a few agonizing moments before stirring and painfully opened his eyes. "I... I feel so sleepy."

"We have to get him out of this room." Gabriel was saying quickly, as a police officer knelt down beside him.

"I'm afraid we can't move him, sir. We have to wait for the paramedics."

"No. We have to get him out of this room. Like right now." Gabriel insisted, pushing the man away. "Azirapha-- Azira, stay awake. You have to stay awake." he said as he slowly hoisted up the battered angel with Crowley's help.

"Sir, I insist that we not move Mr. Azira. We may be doing more damage. The paramedics are on their way." the young police officer was saying but it was falling on deaf ears. Some days later, he wouldn't be able to recall what exactly happened tonight, except that he was there when they found the kidnapped popstar.

Aziraphale's face was contorted in pain, but he was fighting to stay conscious. "The girl. Where is she?"

Crowley looked into his eyes as he and Gabriel carried Aziraphale between them, he gave his angel a slight squeeze at the waist where he was supporting him and said, "She's fine. They got her out."

"Oh good. Oh good..." Aziraphale's face fell forward, the world becoming so, so dark and so heavy. "I was afraid, for a minute there that I'd gotten her..." he coughed, "killed or somesuch..."

"Shhh. It's okay. Everything's alright now angel, rest easy." Crowley said fighting back the tremble in his voice.

Gabriel gave an audible sigh of relief as they bounded up the last steps and exitted the room. They both propped Aziraphale up the nearest wall, Gabriel miracling it clean and warm. He started working immediately to staunch the bleeding. "It - it will take a while before you get back to normal Aziraphale, but, but I should be able to take care most of the minor wounds. I'm sorry." he was trembling, "Im so sorry this happened..."

Aziraphale gave a small smile, "Its, nothing Gabe. All part of the job." His eyes were drifting closed, Crowley's face slowly disappearing into the darkness. He was so happy the demon had come for him, so thankful the girl will be alright, so grateful he was far, far away from John. Aziraphale had a smile on his face as he drifted slowly into welcome sleep,

"All part of the job..."


	11. Chapter 11

Author's Note: Whew, finally the last Chapter :) A big THANK YOU to everyone who reads and reviews!

**ALL IN A LIFETIME'S WORK  
Chapter 11**

Aziraphale sipped at the piping hot tea and set it down carefully on the fine porcelain saucer in front of him. He's sure he's never had white jasmine tea before, and wondered why he never got around trying any of the Asian varieties until lately. It was wonderfully fragrant and sweet without being like the commercial 'flavored' teabags they sold now in supermarkets. It didn't even need sugar.

"Thank you so much Mrs. Warren, the tea is wonderful."

The middle-aged woman sitting before him smiled, "Oh, shhh nonsense. I can't even begin to thank you enough for saving my Catrina." Her dark hair greying at the edges was elegantly combed back, reserved curls falling to her shoulders, she was a spitting image of her daughter. "More mooncake?"

Aziraphale smiled and carefully reached over to the plate she offered, "Thank you. Though I wouldn't say that I did it all by myself." He picked up a small round pastry filled with a sweet bean paste the angel was beginning to like more and more.

"Yes, yes. I haven't seen Mr. Crowley lately." She laughed, "Maybe I should have more sherry or wine out so he'd come by more often.

The angel laughed, "Maybe." Aziraphale took a bite and looked out the living room's wonderful view of New York's upper East side.

Its been about 3 weeks since 'the incident', the young girl - Catrina Warren - was back in school, the angel's right arm was in a sling, and the world got back turning.

Aziraphale would be lying if he said that he hasn't had any nightmares about that night, but it was safe to say that he was feeling better. The few days he spent in the hospital was more for appearances - Heaven opting to let his body heal the 'normal' way once he was out of the red - but he had to admit that he quite liked the endless boxes of chocolates and sweets and stuffed animals that kept streaming in. Crowley huffed and scowled through the whole business as the private room they got for the angel became increasingly overstuffed by flowers and balloons and get-well-soon knick-knacks, but nonetheless stayed at his side. Crowley and his tailored black suit stood out like a sore thumb in the midst of the brightly colored things which the angel simply adored. Crowley scowled and Aziraphale pretended not to notice the sudden increase of in-hospital romances-gone-sour, switched medications and emergency buttons all going off at the same time.

Jonathan Cain Skims was sitting in a cell somewhere Aziraphale would really not want to know about.

"I recently acquired a John Calvin first edition, Christianae Religionis institutio" Mrs. Warren said, bringing Aziraphale out of his reverie, "I'm quite sure you've heard about it." She smiled, and the angel found himself liking the woman even more than he already did.

The Warrens, it turned out, was an influential family of two - Catrina and her mother Louisa. An old rich family that never had to worry about money, did charities and - to Aziraphale's pleasant surprise - had a great interest in acquiring rare books. He'd spent his first visit to the Warrens talking animatedly to Mrs. Warren, browsing their impressive collection in the private library. Catrina too was such an angel, and Aziraphale found it harder and harder not to hate John for taking advantage of such a sweet little girl - even if it is sort of a given that angels must not hate. He liked visiting often since then, and the Warrens welcomed him; Mrs. Warren loving the vast knowledge and common interests the young man brought with him. She could never have guessed how the popstar knew so much about old books.

Aziraphale smiled and finished his mooncake, "Oh my, thats just been auctioned off! Don't tell you were the one who bought it Mrs. Warren. That Calvin is --" His cellphone rang and it vibrated on the coffee table. He looked up apologetically, and Mrs. Warren waved it off.

"I'll go get some cookies. Catrina should be home any moment now." She smiled and stood up leaving Aziraphale alone. She may be old, but Louisa Warren knew she was still sharp as she had always been. She saw quickly enough that it was Mr. Crowley calling, and it took no genius to see that there was something between the two. Cute pair she thought, remembering how her late husband used to be as dogged in his pursuit of her as the Mr. Crowley was with Azira. They may not be a traditional pair to many, but never had Louisa Warren been traditional in her beliefs anyway.

Aziraphale smiled thankfully and picked up the cellphone with his good hand. "Hello, Crowley?"

_"Angel, you alright?"_

"Yes, I'm fine. Stop worrying."

There sounded like a shrug on the other line, _"I'm not worrying."_

Aziraphale playfully rolled his eyes and got up to stand by the window. Crowley called more often now, checking in all the time regardless the fact that Aziraphale practically didn't go anywhere without the demon knowing exactly where he was. The demon denied it as much as he called to check, but Aziraphale knew enough that what had happened shook up Crowley as much as it did him.

"Mrs. Warren's been wondering when you'd visit again." There was silence on the other line, he continued, "She says she'll break out some sherry if you come by."

_"Just sherry? The woman's got to have something stronger in her bar."_

"Crowley!"

There was a light chuckle, _"Just kidding, angel. Hey, don't forget about those tickets."_

Aziraphale nodded, "Yes, yes. Would six be alright? Theyre the best seats in the concert hall though."

_"That should be enough."_

"The concert tour doesn't start up til six weeks from now, though. Doctor says my shoulder should be good by then."

_"They won't mind."_

"So who are you giving them to?"

Crowley seemed to think this over carefully, _"Uh... some fans of yours."_

"Never thought you were such a philanthropist." There was silence, and Aziraphale knew instinctively that the demon was smirking. "Oh, I almost forgot, Gabe's been looking for you."

_"If he's looking to thank me again, tell him the breadbaskets with thank you cards ain't cutting it."_

"Oh, no, no. He's been asking if he could give your number to uh..." Aziraphale tried to remember, "Ford? I think. Modelling agency." the angel tried his best to stifle a laugh, "My CD cover caught their eye, they're thinking you have some promise."

_"Sure, whatever." _the demon answered with a groan in his voice, _"Anyway, I'll be over to pick you up at around 6 or so. Dinner at Le Bernardin?"_

"Sounds lovely." The signal broke up a bit, there was static and Aziraphale looked puzzled, "Where are you Crowley?"

_"Oh, don't - "_ Static._ "--ry about it. I'll be r--"_ More static, _"-- there. See you."_

Aziraphale looked at his phone and slowly thumbed the disconnect button. Wonder where the demon was? He was mulling it over when Catrina came running in and hugged the angel's legs.

"Mr. Angel! I knew you'd be here. We baked muffins in school today, I made some just for you and your boyfriend." She beamed up at him and Aziraphale found himself blushing furiously. Mrs. Warren smiled inwardly as she watched her daughter drag their guest into the kitchen. Azira was truly heaven-sent, like a son she's always wanted but never had.

*******

Crowley flipped close his razor-thin cellphone and dropped it into his coat pocket. These Americans loved their phones slim and flippy, and the demon was liking the country more and more. He was beginning to love their penal system too; how simple little changes here and there with the paperwork and a healthy dose of bribery could just about get you anywhere.

He stepped out of an elevator and into a dimply lit hall painted a sickly old green color lined by flourescent lights. He liked the apalling decor - how appropriate he thought. He walked with a spring in his step, past several security locks and checks then was finally escorted by a burly guard to a lone room at the end. The guard unlocked the door, rapped twice and gave Crowley a curt nod indicating that he may enter. The demon smiled, entered and closed the door behind him. There was man with a shaved head sitting at the far end, a small formica table separating them. He was facing the corner, hands cuffed together on his lap and he didn't bother to look up.

"About time you got here. My hearings in a couple of days."

"I'm afraid your lawyer can't make it today, Sskimsss."

The man practically jumped with a start when he recognized the voice and he bolted out of his chair, eyes wide. "Y - you!"

Crowley's grin could only be aptly described as demonic. "Hello Skimssss. Missed me?"

"No, no, no. You can't be here." Skims backed himself up to the corner watching with terrified eyes as Crowley made the table disappear. "Help! Help! Warden!" he began calling desperately.

The demon advanced slowly, pulling off his jacket and hanging it neatly on a chair back. "Your warden's a little preoccupied right now." he said as he rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt.

Skims desperately clawed at the wall behind him, head turned to watch the approaching form, "Please, I swear to God! I've done nothing to you."

"Oh? You dared to touch something that was mine." Crowley stretched a bit, hearing some bones in his neck pop. "Nobody has been fool enough to do that until you came along. See, Aziraphale is _mine_, and you sodding piece of shit dared touch him."

Realization dawned on the cornered mortal and his eyes were wide, "Oh God, no... Help me! Someone! Guard!" He began yelling with renewed strength as the demon approached closer and closer.

"No one can hear you right now, and nothing will be left of you when I'm done." Crowley said. "No one will come looking for you, no one will remember your name. And when your body expires, I have a few friends personally awaiting your arrival in Hell."

The demon finally closed the gap between them and the lights in the room went out save for one. "Then you will realize just how kind I have been. I think thats about fair, given what you've done to me. To my angel."

When Skims began screaming and pleading and tearing his throat out in agony, the guard smiled and thumbed up the volume of his new iPod; Azira's song "Beyond Redemption" blaring in his ears.

*******

Crowley's fingers played lazily through Aziraphale's blonde hair, as he pulled at the blankets. He closed his eyes for a moment and revelled in the warmth of the angel's naked body next to his. Crowley sighed in contentment. All was right now in his world, and never again would he be so careless. He shifted a bit slowly to lay his head down and bury his nose in Aziraphale's hair, careful not to wake the sleeping angel.

"Mmph..."

"Aziraphale?" he said softly, planting a soft kiss on the fair forehead.

"Thank you." came the muffled voice on his shoulder.

Crowley's raised an eyebrow, "For what?" He shifted the angel's right arm a bit when he saw that he was trying to move it to a more comfortable position.

"That," Aziraphale's raised his eyes to look up at his lover, "...and for putting up with me." he added quietly.

The demon smiled and thoughtfully adjusted the arm sling that kept the angel's healing shoulder in place. "Yup, I do put up a bit for you, you know." he said playfully.

There was a sigh that was more amused than annoyed. "A 'welcome' would have been nice, or an 'it's nothing'."

"I'll say that when you can start properly thanking me after you've healed up."

The tone cast no doubt to Crowley's meaning. Aziraphale blushed red and resorted to tracing little circles on Crowley's chest. He decided to change the subject promptly;

"Say, where did you go this afternoon? I couldn't reach your cellphone."

"Work, tying up loose ends, taking the souls of the damned." Came the quick reply, "The usual."

Aziraphale had the nagging feeling that Crowley had been up to something but didn't push it. He was feeling very sleepy, and reminded himself that he was officially on sick leave and that he was entitled to some non-thwarting for the next few weeks. "You could tell me all about it in the morning, then."

"Mmmhmmm." Crowley watched the angelic blue eyes slowly drift close and he could not help but think once again how beautiful Aziraphale was. "Angel?"

"Mmm?"

Crowley opened his mouth, but thought better of it and shook his head, "Oh, nothing. I - I'll tell you tomorrow." He watched Aziraphale's peaceful face as he pulled the covers over both of them. He can tell the angel tomorrow that his Bentley was on its way to New York, and so are the angel's beloved furniture from the old bookshop - his battered armchair, his workbench and crumbling cabinetry, the old stove, everything. Crowley thought it would be a nice surprise, easing the stress from Aziraphale's lifetime of work ahead. The bookshop in Soho will be waiting for its owner's return, Crowley had seen to that years ago, as well as his flat in Mayfair. It would all be waiting for them at the end of Azira's career, when they can come home to jolly old London.

Crowley closed his eyes and let sleep takeover; heaven can truly be anywhere you make it to be, and right now, he was in his.

-


End file.
